


Questionable Choices

by RedWyvern



Series: Echoes of Dreams [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bloody, Cursed, Drugged Sex, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Hate Sex, Why Didn't I Kill Him?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWyvern/pseuds/RedWyvern
Summary: Sometimes you just have to give in to the desires.*Please note and mind the tags. Also note that when Alisaie makes an appearance later that she is considered and referred to as 18 and an adult.  Minor spoilers in this for my main work when it eventually gets around to this content in terms of who's in relationships with who.
Series: Echoes of Dreams [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697563
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Atara made a content noise as she slipped off the back of Sielphinr atop the flat area where the river began, bubbling up from a spring lake to reach out for the nearby cliff edge to pour over. Letting the black spirit-horse fade away after a snort of dislike at the Gyr Abania sun, leaving herself alone for her little trip. She picked up her pack and walked over towards one of the trees that managed to live long enough to get it’s roots into the shallow river, she dropped her pack, set her greatsword down, and pulled out her fishing pole. 

She was there at Kohanya’s urging, the tension of doing nothing while nations prepared for war was driving the au ra dark knight crazy, and by extension, the other Scion. The miqo healer had all but shoved the fishing pole into her hands and pushed her from the tent, instructing her to go get something for dinner, having learned during their time in Coerthas that the simple act of fishing had a very tranquilizing effect on the woman. Atara had to admit she was on edge, and with Lyse occupied with her own responsibilities, there were other needs that hadn’t been met to help drive the au ra further to distraction. 

So she had to admit that the fishing trip was a good idea. It was a bit of a trek up to where she was perched, but it was a prime trout stream, the fish having spent the last bit of the season working to scale the waterfalls to reach this point. As an added bonus, Gyr Abania had no bears in this region to complicate her fishing plans. Setting her little folding stool down in the shade of the tree, she fixed a lure to her line and prepared to cast. 

The warning from her Elder guide came a split second before she caught sight of the flash of steel from the corner of her eye, throwing herself to the side and reflexively whipping out with the fishing pole as she twisted. A flash of blond, black and red was all she saw as she arched her body into a backflip, landing next to her sword. Dropping the pole, she grasped the massive blade and swung it into position just in time to block the downward strike of a long samurai style blade, metal screeching against metal before the blade caught on the hilt of hers. 

Blinded by the sun, she squinted up at the dark figure looming above her, eyes widening in shock as a jolt hit her in the stomach and clenched her heart in her chest as recognition dawned.

Zenos.

She swiped his blade aside and jumped backwards out of it’s reach, dropping into a defensive stance with her greatsword held across herself like a shield, mentally cursing herself for not wearing any of her armor and opting for her ‘travel’ clothes, not that she had any reason to expect to be attacked this deep in Alliance territory. The Garlean Lord smiled calmly as she disengaged, slowly lowering his sword to his side as he watched her. Her eyes quickly took him in, and she felt confusion bloom. He was dressed in what she could only assume passed for ‘royal relaxation wear’, a black shirt, open to bare his chest and simple black linen pants tucked into ankle high black boots. This all served to make his silhouette all the more imposing, and made the long blond hair hanging over his shoulders somehow almost take on a ‘halo’-esq appearance. 

A small corner of her mind had to admit that somehow, he was attractive. The rest of her mind boggled at the thought.

“Ah, my friend. I was afraid you had dared let yourself settle for the mundane.” He spoke, his voice that deep, menacing rumble. 

She registered the streak of red across his collarbone and smirked, her fishing pole had made contact. “I drew first blood, I’d say I’m not settled at all.” She countered, her stance shifting a bit as the initial spike of fear faded away, she feeling instead a growing anticipation. 

Zenos arched a brow at her statement and glanced down at himself as his confident expression shifted for a moment to confusion. He quickly spied the red mark and the small pricks of blood that welled up, his expression curling into a twisted smile that almost managed to express some measure of ‘pride’. More confusion in her thoughts. “Aahh, so you did! Bravo, friend. And with an improvised weapon as well.” He reached his free hand up to smear the bit of blood across the cut, leaving a red streak and coloring his fingertips, his eyes looking to his hand. They flicked to watch the au ra as he lifted it, slowly licking the blood from each fingertip.

Atara frowned as she watched, shifting a bit in her stance as her tail flicked behind her. She could feel animalistic instincts rising, the sight of the blood, and furthermore, the sight of him  _ licking it away _ stirring the dark spirit within her. She curled her lip up in a mild snarl, baring a fang. “Are we to end this whole war on this lonely plateau?” 

A bark of a laugh as Zenos regarded her. “Only your death would come close to causing an end to the war, Eorzean spirits crushed as one of their lights blink out. There would be the matter of that other of Hydaleyn’s blessed, of course, but taking out the dark fury would be quite a blow indeed.” He gestures to himself. “Were I to die, you know that would only bring your people a short respite.”

Her tail lashed a bit more for a moment. Inside she knew he was relatively correct in that, a respite may not even come should the Emperor choose to strike out in vengeance. She growled again. “That does not mean that I shouldn’t do my best to strike you down here and now.”

Zenos raised his hand to his chest, eyes never leaving hers as he bowed, stretching his sword out to the side to accent it. “I would expect nothing less.”

A hot wind blew across the plateau, stirring up a small cloud of dust that passed between the two as Zenos rose back to stand. Atara bit back any further banter, instead focusing her breathing as she watched him, and he, her. They stood still as statues in a strange, lonely art gallery as the tension rose, coiling the spring tighter and tighter. 

Any observer would say they moved at the same moment, kicking up dirt as they both surged forward, Atara’s muscles flexing as she swung her sword in a wide arc in front of herself, meeting the downward strike from Zenos with a clash of metal and sparks. She noted he was using two hands on his blade, now, which explained the strength behind his strike, but her own strength had grown during her time in Doma, and blades met equally. She spun, and he stepped back, avoiding the long tip of her greatsword as it grazed past his stomach.

As her back was to him, he twisted his sword and stabbed forward, Atara anticipating the strike and dropping her shoulder down so the blade passed harmlessly over, shuddering slightly as the tip of it nicked her horn and sent a vibration through her skull. Zenos smirked at that little bit of contact, it not as humiliating as him being bloodied with a fishing pole, but it was satisfying to see the look on the au ra’s face that came from the sensation. He made note of it.

For whatever reason, Atara noticed quickly the scent of her opponent as she shifted to loop her sword around and strike in another wide attack, keeping him from pressing in too close. But still, she could pick up on him as if the breeze were just right, his perfumed clothes, his sweat, the faintest tinge of iron, a layer of the dust they were kicking up over it all. She grunted in satisfaction as she felt the slight bit of resistance as her blade cut through the fabric of his pants at the hip, the flash of skin below showing that she missed cutting into him, however. He made a similar sound as his sword sliced over her back, cutting through her light linen top and letting it flutter as she moved, but like she, he didn’t manage to break skin. 

Atara made a noise of frustration as the looseness of the now cut garment became a mild hindrance to her range of motion, shrugging it off of her shoulders so it slid down her arms, baring her torso aside from the black wrap keeping her breasts in check. Zenos grinned as he dodged backwards from her strike, shrugging out of his own shirt, much to her continued confusion, though she took the opportunity to discard her ruined shirt fully lest it tangle in her sword. 

Dimly, she realized she was admiring the sight in front of her as Zenos struck at her again. He was extremely fit, well muscled and strong, likely considered an ‘ideal’ Garlean for reasons other than his being a prince. The bit of sweat that glistened on his shoulders caught the light and stuck some of his hair to his skin, only managing to highlight his broad shoulders and strong arms wielding the sword he was trying to kill her with. She growled as the thought that he was  _ attractive to her _ filtered through her hatred towards him, her confusion only managing to blunt her hate enough for her to realize the other emotions. “Fuck.” She growled out.

Zenos, for his part, was only all the more certain in how perfect the warrior was and how much she was one of the things he had spent his life longing for, one half of the precious coin he had found amid the savages of Eorzea. Someone to match him, to be an equal, to understand what it was that drove him on. His glee at her partial disrobement shone in his eyes as he let her do the majority of the attacking, watching how her form moved as he met or dodged her strikes. Her muscles, well toned and fit, flexed and shifted with practiced ease as she moved with him in the deadly dance, the sweat on her form highlighting the black glisten of her scales as he sought to memorize the way they lay on her. His eyes took in the most notable scarring, a line from below her right breast to her left hip, and another up the center of her torso from her waist up to her breastbone, laid over top the other scar: his marking of her as  _ his _ during that first encounter in Rhalgr’s Reach. He tried to judge the age of the other scar as he pushed in for a strike, forcing her to lift her blade high to meet his and letting him get a good look at the old wound. Satisfied in his thought that it was old enough to have been caused likely before she had picked up a weapon to fulfill her destiny, he settled himself and the mild distracting thought that there was someone else out there he needed to kill who had  _ dared _ strike his friend, his enemy. The rest of her scars were of no consequence, clearly not enough to weaken or hobble her, and unworthy of his attention.

She knew he was studying her, and it only served to infuriate her just a bit more, even as her eyes looked him over. Her strikes becoming just a tiny bit unfocused as she growled. The sun began to sink towards the horizon as it passed the high point overhead, alternating between blinding her and blinding him as they moved about their little battlefield. Cuts and slashes bloomed red on both of them as they managed to wear through each other's defences, the stinging fire of pain only adding to their equal determination. He managed to land a significant strike down her back, while she slashed one across his chest. It was during one of the moments when the sun was behind him and blinding her, coupled with sweat getting into her eyes, she let him get close enough to hit her left wrist hard enough with the pommel of his sword that they both heard the crack of bone as her grip faltered. She didn’t cry out, but grunted in pain and let out a roar of anger as she kicked at his knee, hitting it square and causing his leg to buckle as he staggered to the side.

She raised her sword with one hand, gripping at the end of the hilt and bracing the rest of the handle under her arm, severely reducing her motions but still a threat as she backed up to put the tree at her back for protection, eyes narrowing as she watched him where he rested one knee on the ground. Zenos grunted lightly as he braced himself upright with the tip of his sword in the dirt, rising up to stand again, favoring the kicked leg. 

“Why in the seven hells are you  _ smiling _ ?” Atara breathlessly spat out as she watched him with confusion and anger.

Zenos slowly stepped forward, staying just on the edge of the reach of the massive sword pointed at him. “Because, my dear, you have proven to be everything I had hoped you were.”

“And what was that?”

“An equal! One of the only ones in this cursed world that understands the thrill of the hunt, of battle. Of strengthening oneself to be stronger,  _ better _ than all others. Only a Warrior of Light could hope to be my friend and enemy both, and you are every bit of one.” Zenos smirked as he watched her try to process this while both worked to catch their breath. Slowly, he limped forward again, raising his sword to press the flat of it against the flat of the dark knights greatsword to keep it to the side, the two blades trembling as their wielders pressed against each other as Zenos closed the distance between them.

He admired how Atara’s muscles strained to keep her sword steady, the flex of her shoulders and arm, fingers on her broken left hand flexing in frustration at being useless. She brought her arm up to press her forearm against the other, adding strength to her push as she tried to keep him from turning her sword aside, and causing him to reach to hold his sword with both hands likewise. Slowly she turned her face up as her eyes never left his as he drew closer, her nostrils flaring at the intensity of his scent now that he  _ was _ close, the sound of his heavy breathing loud in the closing space. 

WIth a grunt, Zenos shoved hard against her sword with his, knocking it finally from her grip to clatter to the ground with a thud, as the blade of his sword cracked and broke against it with a metallic ‘ping’. He dropped the hilt and struck out like a cobra, grasping the au ra’s broken wrist and shoving it back as his other hand pushed on her shoulder, Atara gasping in surprise and exhaling roughly as she was slammed against the trunk of the tree hard enough to cause the entire thing to shudder, leaves rustling above. 

The prince brought his face close to hers, mere inches away, his hair falling to frame half of his face, the rest stuck to his neck and shoulders from his sweat. The fury in her eyes was intoxicating, as was her scent that he drew in slowly with a deep breath, catching the sweat and blood and dust like she had before, only focused on her. She curled her lip into a snarl, baring her fangs as her muscles twitched, tensing up as the brief daze of being slammed into the tree faded. “And now what, ‘friend’?” She hissed through clenched teeth. 

Zenos smirked at the question, a brow arching as he loomed over the much smaller woman. He stood there still for a moment, then did the thing she least expected. 

He kissed her. It was soft at first, but then became crushingly hard, his lips claiming hers as he muffled the surprised sound drawn from the au ra, pressing her head back against the tree. His teeth grazed over her lower lip and he nipped hard enough to draw blood as he felt her try to pierce him with her fangs, dragging her lip through his teeth before letting the now puffed thing go. She tasted of sage and iron and was like a drug to him, while to her she tasted a strange sweetness like wine and pipe tobacco and for the briefest of moments she almost leaned her head forward to chase his lips even as she tried to bite him. 

The two looked at each other mutely, Zenos’ smug expression still on his features, but for once, he almost seemed unsure of the next move as the fight moved to a different level. Atara’s eyes blazed with emotion and energy, mingled anger and confusion, and much to her chagrin, a rising desire. She couldn’t deny that the fight and his physical power was hitting all of the instinctive buttons inside of her for a strong mate, one who could meet her on the fields of the steppe during the naadam and hold their own against her. Nevermind that she was in the dry dust of Gyr Abania, the khan carried her battle wherever she went. 

The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly before the au ra growled, the only warning Zenos got before she jerked her head up, slamming the patch of scales on her forehead directly into his third eye, sending sparks through his vision and causing him to stumble back, dropping his grip on her wrist and shoulder. She followed through with an uppercut strike directly to his jaw that would have made Lyse proud as he fell back onto the ground with a huff. Atara stared down at him, blood trickling down the side of her nose from the cut that opened on her forehead from the headbutt, her mouth slightly open as she breathed heavily, lower lip still bleeding and bruised. 

Zenos looked up at her expectantly, and she realized that he was straining against his pants, judging by the bulge below his waist. He was sweaty and bloody and so was she, and  _ gods above _ if she wasn’t aroused. Her fury was becoming matched by her animalistic instinct to mate, and she stared at him, eyes locked on his own. “You do realize how much I loathe you, right?” The au ra finally croaked out, baring her teeth as she reached her good hand to undo her belt, feeling a tremble ride up through her spine as his eyes dropped to watch her hand and he bit down on his lip. 

“I am aware, dear enemy.” Zenos almost whispered in reply, his movement steady as he slowly pushed himself up from lying prone, eyes staying on hers as he reached to untie his pants, his motions like one facing down a wild animal and not wanting to spook it.

Atara growled lightly again, though if it was directed at him or herself wasn’t clear, most likely both. Her fingers fumbled a bit, undoing her pants and letting them shift off her hips to pool at her feet, stepping out of them and her boots, leaving her in the black smallclothes that matched the black wrap around her chest. She stepped forward and pushed her foot into his chest, shoving him back down into the dirt. The au ra crouched down as she straddled his waist, her hand pressing down on his shoulder, nails pressing into his skin. “You breathe a word of this to  _ anyone _ in the Empire and next time we meet I will take your manhood as a trophy.” She hissed through clenched teeth.

Zenos visibly swallowed as his eyes shone with anticipation, unable to keep himself from smirking at her words. “Promises, promises.” 

Briefly, she reached for her Elder spirit, opened to the spirits around her. She felt no regret or anger at her intention, which while soothing also just bundled into her aroused confusion. Had he ‘proven’ himself a worthy mate to her Elder guide? Why was her thought of fucking a man she professed to be an enemy not causing the spirits disquiet? Normally she would trust the lack of answer but right this moment it caused her to hesitate, her eyes looking down to the chest her hand pressed against. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady if not a bit fast in anticipation, the powerful muscles rising and falling with his breathing. Scratches, cuts and bruises marked his skin, and she hoped he would remember that each one of those had been inflicted by her. Her nostrils flared as she caught his scent again, and after a brief closing of her eyes, she reached the point of no return and gave in to the physical instinct and desire.

Ducking down, she ran her tongue along the first mark she had inflicted on him, gathering the mingled taste of sweat and blood as she felt his groan rumble through his chest, a soft shiver shaking her shoulders. His fingers curled into the dirt, the large man rising himself up on his elbows as she moved down. She didn’t look to his face as she licked and nipped at the wounds, teeth grazing over and reopening some of the more mild injuries, smearing his blood with her lips and the tips of her dreads as they dragged along with her downward movement. May as well remind him of who inflicted the wounds and not let him focus entirely on pleasure.

‘Though…’ she thought as she glanced up to his face. ‘..I imagine pain  **is** pleasure for him.’ Zenos’ eyes were closed as he soaked in the sensations drawn by her lips and teeth, and she growled low in her throat, smirking faintly as the noise registered in him as a strong shiver of those broad shoulders. ‘..fuck.’ The warrior closed her eyes for a moment, a powerful shiver flowing up her spine again as she felt his hand stroke over her hair almost tenderly, his hips jerking as her teeth marked his chest with a new wound, visible bite mark welling with blood from the pricks of her fangs. He reached down, opening his pants and freeing himself, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking down to watch.

He was massive, easily the size of the largest of the toys she and Lyse would use during their play. She felt a throb of arousal in her core at the sight, and with a groan closed her eyes and briefly pressed her forehead to his collarbone. ‘FUCK.’ She called out to the spirits, exasperated at the overwhelming desire and instinct.

Zenos reached for her hip after he freed himself from his pants, his other hand gently stroking over himself as he trailed his finger along the edge of the au ra’s smallclothes. Contrast to her nips and growls, his touch continued to stay light as if he were trying to tame a beast, and she realized this in the corner of her thoughts, it only serving to make her just that more frustrated with her physical need. She nipped at his shoulder and then at his neck, her hips shifting as he gripped the bit of cloth holding it over her hip, and with a strong jerk of his hand, tore it free. The now useless piece of clothing was easily slid down her one leg now it was free of the other, and she gasped as his huge hand smoothly stroked up the inside of her thigh to cup over her sex, finding her far wetter with arousal than she would ever admit. 

She hissed as he smoothly ground his palm against her folds, curling his fingers to stroke between her lips and tease at her entry. His fingers stilled as she bit at his shoulder, holding his breath until she let go and shifted her hips towards his hand, pressing down against it and urging him to move his fingers again. He did so, with renewed gusto as his other hand moved to work his pants down over his hips just enough. 

Exhaling a breath through her teeth she ducked her head down, eyes following along his form to take in the sight of his maleness again, standing as proudly as the man would normally himself. Another flush of heat flowed through her, and with a growl, she moved back to straddle his hips, bracing herself with her hand on his shoulder. He quickly got her intention and moved his hand from her core to instead grip himself as he reached to guide her hips, both making a low sound as his wide tip settled between her lips. His eyes watched her face, savoring the obvious fight she was having with herself as her thighs trembled, holding herself still as she fought with the last bit of her restraint. He lifted his hips slightly, pressing the head of his cock against her entry but no further, lending greater weight to her desire. 

Zenos smiled as he saw her expression soften as the fight in her thoughts faded, though she curled her lip in a snarl as she started to press down onto him. He closed his eyes and bit back a moan as her tight heat started to enclose his shaft, a hiss exhaled through her teeth followed by a groan drawn from her throat as he started to stretch her around his length. He stroked his tongue along the cut on her forehead next to her scales, gathering the taste of her sweat and feeling the shock that flowed through him when her blood touched his tongue, as if he had tasted the ambrosia of the gods. 

Steadily the dark knight took him into her sex as she pressed down, biting down on her lower lip and bruising it further, tail lashing behind herself and over top of the Garlean’s legs. She kept her eyes on watching as more of him slid into her, and with a final jerk of her hips, she hilted him into her heat. This time, they both groaned at the sensation, her eyes taking in how he bulged her abdomen with his girth, her folds spread to a comfortable stinging stretch as she settled against his groin. Her thighs and ass trembled and flexed as she kept herself still, fang threatening to pierce her bloodied lip again. Zenos gripped more firmly on her hip as he watched that bit of hesitation like a wild animal not sure if it wanted to come close again, gently guiding her hips to roll some as he shifted himself within her. 

That was enough. Atara moaned as she felt him move, finally letting go of the bite to her lip and holding tightly to his shoulder as she began to rise up off of him, groaning as he left emptiness in his wake, a powerful tremble flowing through her as her heat clenched around him as if it were trying to keep hold of the tip of his cock. His hand kept her from rising completely off of his length but let her otherwise move as she wanted, which was to thrust back down and take him within again. She quickly built up a steady pace, her body rocking forward against his chest as she rolled and thrust her hips, Zenos arching some as he braced himself with one hand to rise and meet her downward motion. 

Her mind settled on the thought of ‘winning’ this particular fight by making him climax first, dipping her head to nip and lick at the marks and wounds again, or create new ones with sharp bites, lips curling into a smile when she felt him tremble and shiver. A new sheen of sweat coated her shoulders and back, mingling with the blood from the wounds he had caused  _ her _ and causing the cuts to sting, or reopening them to bloom with new heat. He slid his hand up over her back, dragging his fingers over one of the deeper cuts he had managed to inflict and painting her shoulder with the blood, the pain and scent of it only managing to drive both of their desires higher. 

Zenos reached to grip under her thighs, lifting her as he arched up, keeping himself buried in her heat as he lifted to his knees, his grip on her thighs letting him take control of the pace, and after a moment’s tensing and another nip to his collarbone, she let him, reaching her arms up to wrap around his shoulders, her unbroken wrist letting her cling to him with nails scratching at his neck. Her much smaller form fit snugly against his chest as she curled her legs around his hips, her tail coiling around his thick thigh for additional balance. He marveled at the way she moved, grace and strength even as he moved her to his own will, the rolling of her hips meeting his thrusts as he drove into her again and again. His shoulder was rapidly becoming a reddened mess as she bit and licked at him, closing her lips around a spot and suckling, hard, groaning in the back of her throat at his taste and scent. Her tail, meanwhile, stroked along the underside of his thigh, tip dipping up to tease into the wetness from her sex that coated his groin and sac, teasing at the sensitive bit of skin hidden there. 

_ That  _ caused Zenos to gasp, his mind reeling at the feeling of Atara’s scaled tail undulating against his thigh and the tip teasing over his taint, she teasingly brushing it so close to his back gate he caught himself briefly losing pace of his thrusts, but the result was what he desired. The change in the angle of his thrust as his hips jerked and trembled hit something within the au ra, her sex clenching down on him like she was refusing to let him go as a strong shiver worked its way up her shoulders as she moaned deep. He tilted her back, pushing her down onto the ground, not caring of the wounds on her back as he took full control, now. Lifting her hips with his hands, he held her in place as he began to pound into her, hips slapping against hers, grinding himself against her groin as he fucked the Warrior with what strength and focus he could muster. 

Atara sent a litany of growls and swear words in her native language loose as the position changed and Zenos began moving in earnest above her, his immense form hunched over her as he looked down to her face, both his eyes and hers hazy with lust. Her back was aflame with pained fire as his thrusts pushed her against the dirt and stone, but the fire between her legs commanded full attention of her mind, her nails scratching down his shoulders as she desperately clung to him. To him, nothing else mattered but this moment as the fight became intimate and closer than he had dared hope it could be. He had imagined he could have perhaps managed to get the au ra’s counterpart to this point sometime, but he had never gotten the miqo alone, someone always was too near for him to try to engage her. Regardless, he certainly hadn’t considered that, though he knew he had a greater chance to catch Atara alone, he did not think their battle would come to this. He felt his groin tighten, his climax approaching, and bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to delay the inevitable as his hands pulled her hips against him. 

Internally, she smirked, the expression not reaching her face as her bruised lip was swollen to where it couldn't move well, but she felt that change in his hold, the twitch of his cock. She knew her sex was clinging and grasping at him, her pearl twitching every time Zenos’ groin would grind against her, but he was close. She tightened the grip of her thighs around his hips as she leaned up and bit down on the side of his neck. His pulse thundered below her tongue, and distantly she knew she could rip his throat open if she only just tightened her bite just a little bit further...Zenos knew this as well. His eyes closed when she leaned in and bit down, his mouth opening in a silent sound as he breathed hard and heavily, shoulders tensing as he held still in the grip of the predator below him. The reminder that at this moment she held his life in her jaws was enough to send him over the edge, slamming into her with short, erratic thrusts as his shaft twitched and jumped within her clinging sex, spilling his seed into her body. 

Atara groaned muffledly around his throat as she felt the heat of his seed spurting into her stretched and well used sex as he ground himself against her. Her folds, puffy and bruised, ached from the stretch around his massive girth, and after holding out for a few more moments, she let go of his neck to drop her head back and arch towards him, crying out weakly as her own climax hit her like a punch to the gut. Her sex flexed and clenched and milked at Zenos’ manhood, taking all she could from him as he continued to thrust through her peak and the remains of his. After what seemed an eternity, he finally stilled, cock buried in her cunt as he lay over her smaller form, smearing sweat, blood and dirt together as he lingered in the closeness. 

He felt her trembling fade, felt the slickness between their legs as testament to their joining. For one of the first times that he could recall, every muscle in his body ached and the pain that flowed through him was a beautiful touch he decided was his own level of communing with Hydalyen, through one of her chosen, as near blasphemous as that thought was. He didn’t care. He caught his breath, as did she, and he slowly let her hips rest on the ground, easing his hands from under her thighs to brace himself above her. This, he decided, was perhaps the most dangerous moment as his eyes watched her face. She hadn’t killed him with her bite, this time, but the spark in her eyes when she finally met his gaze told him he may not be so lucky in the future. 

“You see, my friend, we are meant to be partners on every level. Pleasure, pain. Hatred, caring. Allies, enemies.” Zenos spoke low, Atara huffing at him in reply as she unwound her arms from around his neck, gripping at and pressing on his shoulder. 

“Either way, I won this day.” Atara spoke, her voice hoarser than she expected from the harsh breathing, pushing him up from her some as her tail uncoiled from his thigh, thumping lightly against the ground as her irritation at his presence started to rise. “I drew first blood, I brought you to a peak first.”

Zenos considered her statement and how she also was behaving as expected, like a briefly soothed wild beast that was now done with his attention and nearing an edge of anger again. Both things she had said were true, and he inclined his head in slight submission to the point. “Indeed, the day is yours.” He shifted, carefully drawing his softening length from her heat with a moan of loss, easing himself back from her body as she lay there and watched him. He stood and looked down at himself, stooping briefly to take hold of her discarded and useless shirt and finishing ripping it in half. Taking one half for himself, he cleaned off his groin before pulling his pants back into place, but did nothing for the blood on his body as he tossed the used fabric aside. He sketched another bow towards Atara as she propped herself up on her elbows, eyes never leaving her face as he smiled, still oh so confident and arrogant but, she realized, sincere. “Next time I shall endeavor to take off all of your clothing and see you fully, my dear one. Until then.” 

Her brow furrowed as he turned on his heel and began to walk away as she sat there, covered in blood and dirt, her core aching as much as the rest of her did from the sword fight, then the... other fight. She ran her tongue over her abused lip and then over her teeth, still tasting him there. Why hadn’t she killed him? She could have ripped out his throat and basked in the blood. Her fishing knife was in her pants pocket, something she could have grabbed when her sword was discarded, and slipped it between his ribs before they had even gotten to having sex. Her mind went over the dozen ways that she could have ended the fight, ended  _ him _ , but she hadn’t taken that step. 

“The hell, Atara.” She grumbled to herself as she slowly rolled to the side and onto her knees, groaning at how everything ached, but in a satisfying sort of way. Standing, she looked down at the mess of herself and shook her head, turning to wade into the shallow river a ways before she simply sat down in the cold water, shivering for a few moments as her body adjusted. She let her broken wrist soak in the chill while she laid back, letting the water wash away the blood, sweat and dirt that clung to her, closing her eyes as she did, taking stock of the thoughts in her mind.

Anger was still at the forefront, though not only at him, but now at herself. Again she wondered why she couldn’t kill him, casting the thought out and trying to determine the answer. Nothing concrete came to her aside from the simple fact that she couldn’t. That it wasn’t right, that he still had some major part to play. Her good hand struck a smack to the surface of the water as she grunted, shaking her head as she sat up again and scowled. Gently, her Elder guide reminded her of how she had always gone through life listening to them and that intuition, even if logic dictated otherwise, and the au ra Spirit Speaker sighed. “I just have to trust it, I guess.” She muttered to herself. 

An exhausted trout, fresh up from the waterfalls, lazily swam near to her legs and tail, briefly examining her tailtip as a possible thing for it to eat. Reflexively, Atara struck out with her hand, grasping the fish and tossing it over her shoulder onto the shore. “At least I’ll have one fish today.” The au ra muttered to herself as she looked down, realizing that while the water had washed her clean, now it had exposed the wounds that were still open and seeping blood, and would require tending. 

“Crap. How am I going to explain this to Anya?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Didnt intend for this to continue but here we are. Short bridge between larger scenes. Kohanya belongs to [Nightmist](/users/Nightmist/)

When Atara returned from her little fishing trip, it was not in a state that Kohanya expected. The billowing black shirt she was clothed in was most certainly not hers and smelled of a perfume she did not know, behind the scent of blood and sweat that otherwise clung to the au ra. Once in the seclusion of their tent and peeled out of the clinging shirt, it exposed that she was a bloody mess below it. 

“By the Light, did you run into a patrol or something? I thought you were within Alliance territory.” Kohanya grimaced at the state of Atara’s back as she wet a cloth to carefully clean out the bits of sand and grit that clung inside the wounds still. “This will probably sting.” 

“I expect a sting.” Atara lightly replied, pulling her hair over her shoulder and leaning her head down to keep her back bared. If it stung, she made no comment or showed in her expression. “No, not a patrol.” 

“Mmhmm.” Kohanya eyed the back of the au ra’s head for a moment, reaching out her senses to take in the woman’s overall physical state, her ears flicking at noting evidence of the sexual activity, her voice a touch quieter when she spoke again to press the issue, knowing the dark knight to be evasive. “So what was this.” 

Atara closed her eyes and exhaled a slow breath through her nose. She knew this was coming, but it didn't mean she had an answer any easier. She sighed. “Zenos.”

“WHAT?!” Kohanya startled at the unexpected answer, nearly dropping the cloth as Atara grimaced at her volume and tone. The miqo’te healer cleared her throat, ears turning back as she flicked her tail in a bid to get the fur to unpuff. “Zenos? He attacked you? And...ah..” She rested her hand on Atara’s hip. 

The dark knight reached up and covered her eyes with her good hand, still grimacing. “I know what you’re thinking, and that wasn’t...uh.” Her tailtip twitched as she felt Kohanya’s fingernails pick out a larger stone. Another light sigh. “That part was consensual.” 

She’d need to brush her tail fur down after this. Kohanya paused, closing her eyes as she collected herself, then sighing as well. “You’re as reckless as Estinien.” She paused in tending the woman's back for a moment, considering. “I’m going to give you a tea after this and you will drink it every day for a week, got it?” 

Atara couldn’t help but smile some at the orders. “Yes ma’am.” She squeaked when the miqo flicked her fingernail over the edge of her horn, sending a thrum through her skull. 

“I’m not old enough to be a ‘ma’am’ to you.” Kohanya scolded, then sighed as she started to carefully heal the cleaned wounds. “What were you thinking? Or  _ were _ you thinking?”

“Oh, I was thinking. I was thinking a lot of things when he suddenly showed up and tried to kill me.” Atara glanced over her shoulder to the other woman, smiling as Eos then sat on her shoulder to aid in the healing, turning her gaze back down to her hands. “But I know what you’re meaning, and I don’t know. I  _ still  _ don’t know, and keep asking myself. The spirits were utterly silent when I asked back when the thought first entered my head, and that was weird too, but everything, and... because what in the Seven Hells….” She made a gruff sound and ran her hand over her hair. “I’d not felt that way before, Anya. Just his scent and the sight of him and, gods damn if he wasn’t the Garlean Prince…”

“But he is the Garlean Prince and has repeatedly attempted to kill both of us.” Kohanya dryly noted. She lightly chewed on her lower lip a moment. “I’m not the most versed on your people’s mating habits, but I suppose it was something about his battle strength. Afterall, you were rather...wound up, after the Naadam.” 

Atara’s cheeks darkened with a blush at the reminder of the grand battle on the Steppe and the night and day after. She looked aside and cleared her throat some. “I suppose that makes sense. I did think that at one point. But still!” She gestured empathically, then grimaced as this reminded her of the broken state of her wrist. 

Kohanya hid a smile behind the au ra’s shoulder. “Don’t move that, I’ll get to it in a bit.”

“Oh, gee, thanks, I thought it was fine to move a broken bone.” 

“Hush, don’t be difficult.” Kohanya replied, falling silent as she continued her work. “Did you at least get a few hits in?” She finally asked, lightly tapping Atara’s shoulder to get her to turn around, letting her get to the wounds on the front of her torso. 

The question brought a smile to the dark knight’s face, lips quirked and fang showing. “Yeah, I did. I’d say I won the day, even.”

Managing to not smile herself, Kohanya pulled her bag over to splint the injured wrist, murmuring that it wasn’t a bad break at least. “Let's do our best to avoid such questionable decisions in the future, alright?” She lifted her eyes to meet Atara’s, smiling lightly at the younger woman when she noted the embarrassed look. 

“Yeah...yeah, we’re going to try to not do that again.” Atara replied with a light laugh, closing her eyes as tiredness started to take hold as pain eased and wounds were tended to. “Thank you, Anya.”

“Mm? What, like I’d leave you bloody and wounded.” The miqo clicked her tongue.

“No no. I mean, thank you for that too, but more, just...I don’t know. Being here for me. It’s nice to have someone I can talk about these things to who isn’t a voice only I can hear. I’m...admittedly not sure how I’m going to tell Lyse.” 

“Well you’d best find one, it’s not something you should let fester. Or are you afraid she’ll be upset?”

“I don’t think so? It’s not like it’s going to be jealousy or anything, more worry and upset along your line of worry and upset.” Atara reached her hand to briefly run over the still slightly disturbed fur of Kohanya’s tail, smiling lightly. 

Kohanya chuffed a breath through her nose. “All the more reason to tell her. She knows you and would pick up on you being evasive and secretive, anyway.” 

Atara sighed. “Yeah, I suppose.” She fell quiet, watching her skin knit back together under the precise spellwork from the scholar, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lip. “Want to know something?” She offered.

“NO.” Came the quick reply, earning a laugh from the au ra. “I do not need to know what I’m sure you’re thinking to tell me. That’s not a detail about someone I apparently need to remind you is our current foe that I would like to know.” 

Atara’s smile only grew at that, but she also knew better than to tease the healer currently setting bone and closing cuts. “Okay, okay.” 

Kohanya rolled her eyes and shook her head, unable to keep from smiling lightly herself. She gently pushed on Atara’s shoulder when done, nudging her to lie back on her bed. “Okay, you’re back in one piece again. I’m going to get together that tea for you, but I’m sure you’re tired, get some rest.” 

Hiding the yawn that rose at the suggestion, Atara nodded and laid back, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes. She mumbled something incoherent, but was quickly asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undying love and appreciation for the Bookclub discord giving me inspiration and encouragement https://discord.gg/5TdhTCV


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate choices lead to darker consequences down the line. MIND THE NONCON TAGS. NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that at this point in time, I consider Alisaie and Alphinaud to be 18, and refer to them as adults.

For not the first time, and likely not the last, Atara came to wonder how she had gotten this deep into something she thought was a lot more simple than it had appeared. Despite the way the physical pleasure had felt that first encounter with Zenos, she had been disgusted with herself and regretful of the choice the more she thought about it. Though Lyse and Kohanya had understood when she explained what had happened that first time, she herself grew more critical as time went on, frustrated with her inability to control her more base desires. She tried to shove the memories aside, push away the growing negativity in her thoughts about it, and had succeeded, mostly. It helped that she didn’t encounter him again at her fishing getaway, leaving her the space to gradually start to get over it. 

That is, right up until Zenos had declared his newest intention as he set upon her and Kohanya one day as he found them traveling away from Alliance camp and patrols. He was like a demon possessed that afternoon, and had succeeded in separating the two from each other with a well placed knockback throwing the dark knight off a short ledge. If it hadn’t been for her previous dragoon training and still having the strength to jump, he would have had far more chance to get to the scholar than the strike and knockback of the miqo’te he was able to do, not quite getting through Kohanya’s shields. As it was, Atara only just was able to get between him and her, and locked in close contact, swords straining against each other, he whispered his intentions towards the miqo'te, rage sparking in the au ra. 

There was no way in the Seven Hells she would let it happen. 

So when she returned to her fishing spot and found Zenos waiting there, the man just  _ knowing _ she’d take the bait, logic had no chance to take hold as fire and rage did instead, leaving her to only consider afterwards how she had so easily walked right into what he wanted her to do, played like a string. 

It was a lot more brutal that time. Earlier near flirtation of their first encounter was thrown aside as it became a battle for dominance; back and forth and no clear leader or upper hand, no restraint as sword met sword and sliced through flesh. Though she struck him more, it was he who managed to strike her in such a way that she lost her grip on consciousness, falling limply to the ground as blood flowed from her side. 

Zenos stared down at the prone form, breathing heavily to catch his breath, smirking faintly. He knew he could find a way to trigger this level of strength and fury in the au ra, he just hadn’t expected it to work quite so well with Kohanya, he thought he may have to target the hyur monk to get such a strong reaction. It was just the fire he hoped that would temper her strength and finally bring a measure of joy to his life and the hunt, though he found himself enjoying the way this was going far more than anything he had orchestrated before in the subjugated provinces. Pulling a healing potion from his pouch, he downed half of it to slow the bleeding of the numerous wounds, then crouched and poured the rest down Atara’s throat, making sure she swallowed it. He watched as the wound which knocked her down slowly stopped bleeding, then moved to undo the choker about her neck, stepping back and inspecting it and the House Fortemps symbol on the curio. 

He turned the choker over, exposing the back of it, nodding lightly to himself as he searched his pouch for a small box, withdrawing it once his fingers found it. Flipping it open, he inspected the small red chip in the fading light, pausing a moment to pick up the chip with a set of tweezers, it was so fine and delicate. Fixing it to the back of the choker, he checked to be sure it was fixed in place before crouching down and refastening the piece of jewelry about the au ra’s neck, almost looking like a lover giving a present to a sleeping partner. 

“I avoided your fangs the first time, my friend, but it is clear to me that a small measure of protection is in order from here on out..” Zenos murmured as he lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek, again easily mistakable as a tender touch to any outside observer. He smiled as her brow furrowed as if in a measure of pain, the skin of her neck twitching and muscles flexing as the bit of recovered Allagan tech began its work. “Just enough to keep you wild but spare my life, for now.” He stroked his fingers tenderly over her horn, tilting his head to watch her. “Fear not, it will be removed in due time, when you are ready to reveal your full potential.’ 

The smile slowly faded from his face as he crouched there, looking her over. Her clothing was near useless after the fight, as was his, far more blood this time than before on the both of them, her fury was almost more than anticipated. The large man groaned low, a throb of arousal flowing through him as he reached to roll her onto her stomach. It was little difficulty to remove her clothing the rest of the way, and with little hesitation, he moved to take his pleasure from her, a small bit regretful she was unaware. 

Part of her mind was surprised as she woke up some time later, one eye opening to look across the bare plateau at the familiar tree by the river. She groaned low as she shifted her shoulders and started to push herself up to kneeling, a strong shudder flowing through her as she got herself partly upright, head hanging and hair dragging in the dirt darkened with her dried blood. Glancing down along herself, she felt her stomach go cold as she realized her state of undress, closing her eyes and staying still, looking as if frozen in place for several minutes. Her entire form shuddered as her nerves woke to send pain flaring through her, she sitting back on her heels as she closed her eyes to try to steady the spinning of the world. 

“Ah, you awaken. We’ve a deal to work out the details of.” Zenos’ voice came from behind her, and she resisted the urge to empty her stomach upon hearing him. 

“A deal.” She weakly stated, looking slightly over her shoulder but not directly to him. “Because you got in a lucky strike and spared my life?”

He chuckled darkly. “While I will claim the win this time and have already taken my prize, no. I’ve every intention of hunting the healer down and doing what I wish with her. Do you wish to stop me?” 

Atara closed her eyes at his words, her fingernails digging into her knees as her jaw clenched, brow furrowing with her frown. Exhaling a breath, she nodded, once.

* * *

And so they made a bargain; in exchange for leaving the miqo healer alone, she would need to meet him on a regular basis for, as he put it, ‘testing’ in her strength, insisting that he was only helping her to grow stronger, to better protect. She told herself the same thing as time went on, that she was doing it to be strong, to protect. The question of why she didn’t just  _ end _ the man only seemed to ever appear for only the barest of moments before it left her mind as a question unanswerable as wondering on the meaning of life. 

They would fight, then they would fuck, declaring whoever had the upper hand through the encounter the winner, the tally going back and forth most of the time, until it began to slowly, surely swing in Zenos’ favor. She felt herself yielding to him almost out of instinct, confusion and fear in her mind every time she realized this, frustration at her body and its desire for his touch, to feel him spread her around his length as she rode him to pleasure. Vaguely she likened him to a drug, one she was growing more addicted to. She desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone; Lyse, Alisaie. Even Y’shtola, though her greatest desire was to tell Kohanya, while at the same time shame compelled her to stay silent with the miqo scholar, afraid to anger her with the knowledge that she had made this hells bargain in desperation to protect the other Warrior of Light. The hypocrisy stung at her pride, memory of Kohanya’s desperate night at the Airy and how the au ra had reacted still strong in her mind. Yet she still went through with it, intent upon fulfilling her half of the ‘deal’.

Once again she was suffering through the agony of healing after one of the ‘tests’, sitting waist deep in the cold river to let the blood wash away. After their initial bargain and Zenos’ departure, she discovered a new and terrifying aspect to her life; it seemed that having focused on the darkness and feeding off of it’s pain caused her healing magic to do what it was meant to, but to also cause her extreme pain in the process. At least it was the only thing she could think of for why it was happening without broaching the subject with someone like Kohanya or Y’shtola, and that would have brought her far too close to having to explain why she was healing herself. After that first time, it was such an unexpected shock it caused her to pass out from the pain. It didn’t get any easier any time after, she frequently yelling out in pain into the lonely retreat.

She wasn’t so certain she had properly set the dislocated shoulder from the ‘visit’ that day with how the sensation tingled down to her fingertips like a thousand needles pricking at her skin, but was more concerned with stopping the bleeding from the wound in her stomach at the moment well enough that it wouldn’t scar and a healing potion could take care of the last of. Every muscle in her body tensed as it was as if she was being struck with Zenos’ sword all over again as she cast her healing spell, hand trembling as she held her wand and called upon her knowledge as a White Mage. It was as if she was being hit again, but was heated with the fires of Ifrit that seared through her and caused her stomach to heave. Spitting out the bile and water that rose in her throat, she sat down hard on the edge of the river.

"This is not your wisest made decision." A gruff voice rumbled from behind her as she fought off the waves of discomfort and nausea.

Her lip curled in a snarl but she didn't lift her head, closing her eyes as she kept herself from swaying where she sat. "Says the king of wise decisions." 

The dragoon tried not to bristle at her counter, reminding himself why he was there, Estinien stepping into her side vision. "Makes me all the better able to judge you, I think." She didn't respond outside of a twitch of her tail, and he tried to think of what the woman they were both there for would think of the situation, and decided to simply ask. "And what do you think  _ she’ll  _ think of this?" 

He could feel the dark aether roil up in her like invisible bristles and spines along her shoulders, but it only made her look more ill as it countered the white magic she was drawing on to heal herself. Her shoulders sagged and she only hissed in reply through clenched teeth. “My goal is that she never knows!” 

Estinien couldn’t argue with this reasoning. Afterall, here he was, staying as far from the Alliance camp the two Warriors were set up in as he could and still watch, keeping away from the two women, and the Scions there on the front lines. He eyed the woman and frowned, glancing over to her belongings under the nearby tree that was still marked with blood. “You intend to stay here.” He noted, taking stock of the supplies she had. 

“Such powers of observation.” Atara grumbled, rubbing her hand over her face. “At least till the dawn.” 

Estinien watched her for several silent moments. It was clear, and surprising, that the dark knight had been a powerful healer in her own right at some point in her life, and he wondered a bit at what lead her to pick up a sword instead, but dismissed the thought as he noticed there more blood still flowing downriver than she seemed to realize. Perhaps the pain of healing had negated the pain of the still seeping wound. The au ra hung her head, swaying forward over her thighs some. He took half a step towards her. “I don’t think that’s the best…”

The dragoon reached a hand for her, only to jerk it back as like a snake she struck out at him with a dagger he did not see that she had, throwing herself somewhat at him as her eyes flashed, he able to feel the air stir with the passing of the knife. “And what does a karkul fucker from the countryside know?” She growled low in a voice that did not seem her own, the harsh words causing Estinien to raise a brow in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden venom and feel of her aether all but boiling over. Her eyes were narrowed and glassy as she slowly shifted to first her knees, then crouched. The growled out words that followed were actually words, but he didn’t know what she had said, supposing it was her native tongue. She braced herself with one hand on the ground, the other holding the dagger in a ready position, her wand discarded. 

“Atara…” he started again, taking half a step back, holding his hand out to attempt to stay the woman, not certain what caused the switch in her eyes. 

She lunged forward, aiming to slam herself into his legs in a tackle, knife slashing through the air again. Though he easily jumped backwards from the strike, begrudgingly he would admit that even in her weakened state she was still a significant threat as he landed lightly on a branch of the lone tree. He arched a brow in surprise as the woman slowly stood, like a puppet slowly being lifted to its feet. The feel of the dark aether the woman wielded grew thick in the air, and he would swear the bright Gyr Abanian sun had managed to dim. She looked up to him without lifting her head, and he mentally cursed himself for giving her the opportunity she was now taking to lift her greatsword. 

When she growled again, it was not the sound he had heard ever come from a living throat; raspy and thick, there was nothing he could quickly equate the sound to, the elezen crouching slightly on the branch. When she came towards him, starting to lift her sword, he waited until she was almost to the tree before he nimbly jumped over her to land with a soft ‘thup’, picking up Gae Bolg just in time to deflect the attack from Atara that he had anticipated. There was none of the au ra’s usual brutal grace in the blow, nothing but the weight of the sword and deadly intent, but this made it all the easier to deflect the strike. He didn’t attack himself, simply deflecting her blows as he guided them back from the river and tree. 

The close proximity allowed him a chance to take in her state. His earlier supposing she was unaware of a wound seemed correct, her back gashed open and still bleeding. It also seemed to be seeping the dark aether that flowed along her form not too unlike the blood on her back, only rising upwards over her torso as it seemed to be the thing that was controlling the woman. He made a note to seek answers from Kohanya, but first, he needed to find a way to stop the dark knight before he could bring her back to the camp.

His constant evasion seemed to only make the au ra angrier, her strikes more wild as she swung her massive sword at him with the seeming intent of slicing him in half only to deflect against the side of his lance. He maneuvered the engagement back towards another small set of trees. This had the desired effect a few moments later when, instead of deflecting this swing he instead jumped up into the sky, letting her slice into the trees with her sword, the missed swing causing her to stumble and growl out as she fell to one knee. 

Estinien landed smoothly behind the au ra, twisting his lance to strike the flat of it against the back of the woman’s head as gently as he could but still have it do what he hoped. He closed his eyes as he heard Atara grunt and then groan, the sound of her crumpling to the ground after. Silence settled on the plateau, the dragoon sheathing his lance to his shoulders as he turned and stepped over to the still form nearby. He crouched down and carefully as he could, gathered the smaller woman into his arms as he turned towards the Alliance camp. 

Next would be the question, could he leave Atara and get away before Kohanya got there? He smirked lightly to himself as he jumped into the air, bounding towards safety and assistance.

* * *

It was a quiet afternoon. Only a few skirmishes between Alliance forces and Imperial patrols, and no significant injuries from them, leaving Y’shtola with a chance to relax and read for a bit while she waited for Alisaie to return with the items she had sent the young woman to retrieve. There was nearly always something to do, of course, but she took her moments of respite when she could. And a moment was all she had to read a few pages before Alisaie returned, box in her arms.

The miqo healer arched a brow as the teenage elezen stepped into the large medical tent. “What, did you run the entire way? Are you that in need of something to do?” Y’shtola asked as she set her bookmark in place, standing. 

Alisaie smiled as she set the box down on the table next to the shelves of supplies, stepping aside to let the older Archon go through the box and put things where she wanted. “Well, yes, I did indeed run a good majority of the way. At least until I got to the quartermaster, then I thought it best to walk lest I jumble any of your supplies.”

“So considerate of you, thank you.” Y’shtola smirked a bit as she started putting away the various bottles and powders Alisaie had brought. “I suppose you had made a swing about to look for your two partners in crime?”

The elezen blushed slightly at the question, turning around to lean her hip against the table and lightly cross her arms over her chest. “Ah, ahem, yes. Lyse is still wrapped up in that meeting that started this morning. I’m not entirely certain where Atara has gotten off to.”

Y’shtola smiled at Alisaie’s answer, the eighteen year old still shy and somewhat hesitant to talk about her relationship with the other women, but where she’d avoid questions from her brother, Thancred or Krile, she found it comfortable enough to talk to the miqo’te, and Y’shtola didn’t mind. Though she had little interest in the tangled web of relationships, she did have interest in the happiness of her fellows. “I suppose you actually attempted to contact the wayward dark knight?”

A flash of pink tongue as Alisaie stuck it out. “Yes. She didn’t answer, as expected. She did say she was going to attempt to fish somewhere, of all the things you’d think she’d focus on, that’s it.” 

“Whatever relaxes her.” Y’shtola put the last potion on the shelf before setting the box below the table. 

“Yes, but fishing? I don’t know, it just seems off brand sometimes.” Alisaie stayed leaning against the table as Y’shtola returned to her chair and picked up her book. 

The healer shrugged, about to say something else when they were interrupted by commotion outside, voices calling for a healer. Barely having a chance to stand from the chair again and before Alisaie could reach the tent flap, the tall and unmistakable figure of the former Azure Dragoon stepped in, but what the two women quickly focused on was not so much the surprise of his appearance, but rather the unconscious form of Atara he carried in his arms. Alisaie stared for a long moment, but Y’shtola quickly ushered Estinien to one of the nearby beds. “Estinien, here.”

“What happened?” Alisaie found her voice as she stepped to position herself where she could get anything Y’shtola needed as Estinien laid the au ra down. 

“Zenos.” Estinien gruffly replied as he stepped back. He looked a bit like he had every intention of turning and walking away, but with a slight grimace, paused by the door instead of going further. “She had healed quite a bit herself, but there are still some she hadn’t gotten to. And...be wary. She isn’t herself.”

Y’shtola had gone fully into her focused healing mode, eyes closed as she held her hand over the still woman and worked her healing aether. One ear turned some towards Estinien, but she did not reply to him.

Alisaie blinked at Estinien, questions clear in her eyes at his final statement, then shook her head and turned to prepare a basin of water, nodding slightly. “Thank you, Estinien, we’ve got her.” 

The tall elezen nodded once and lingered for a few more moments before he slipped through the tent flap and back into the afternoon light, waiting for his ‘fate’, knowing Kohanya was surely on her way there by this point. Enough had seen his arrival that he knew word had spread, and the other miqo’te healer had to be headed for the medical section of the camp.

Inside the tent, things were quiet as Y’shtola worked, though she began to muse quietly to herself. Alisaie could make out the words, but wasn’t paying much attention, quick to hand anything Y’shtola requested, but focused on the au ra’s face. Several minutes passed before the healer cleared her throat. 

“Alisaie, I need you to go get a message to Lyse. They must know at the meeting that she’s been in an altercation with Zenos…” The white furred woman paused until Alisaie looked up blankly, catching the elezen’s eye. “... _ and _ they, you, and Lyse need to know that she’ll be fine. Sore no doubt, but fine. Now go get to the headquarters, and I’ll come find you once I’m finished and get her to bed.” 

Alisaie had half opened her mouth, about to protest, right up until Y’shtola assured her that the au ra would be fine. The tension left her shoulders and spine and she closed her eyes, exhaling a breath before she nodded, stepping away to wash her hands. “You’re correct, I’m certain rumor has already flown there of Estinien’s arrival. Best to reassure.” 

Y’shtola only nodded lightly, turning back to her gentle work as Alisaie left. Clouded eyes glanced up towards the tent flap before back down to her unconscious friend. “Fine physically, but goodness, my friend. This doesn’t seem to be a first time.” She muttered lightly, startling just slightly at the light sound from the front of the tent, glancing up to see Kohanya letting the tent flap close behind her, eyes flicking up to Y’shtola’s from looking down to the other Warrior. 

“How recent?” Kohanya asked, stepping into the tent and nearer the other two.

“I take it you do not mean the current situation.” Y’shtola mildly replied, then looked down, smoothing her hand gently over the now mostly healed wound on the dark knight’s back.

Kohanya made a light sound. “Indeed. This is..not a first time.” Her voice sounded strained and off balance, like she had come into the tent with one intent only to be struck by something else. 

“I can see evidence of an aether burn sort of wound to her below the wounds, from this and recently, and evidence of recent healing done.” She lightly bit down on her lower lip a moment. “I’d say within the moon she suffered other injuries unsaid to us.”

Reaching out with her own senses, Kohanya sighed lightly as she got the same feel as the other healer. “I’ve a mind now to make her sit still at least once a week so I can look at her.” A brow arched a moment later as she traced evidence of the aether discomfort and where it had largely impacted Atara. Her jaw tensed and she shared a glance with the other miqo, but said nothing further. 

Y’shtola began to clean the au ra of dried blood before bandaging her, her tail swishing lightly behind her. “You two carry too much.” She murmured.

Kohanya twitched one ear as she picked up the murmur. "We carry no more than we're expected to and who else is there to do it?"

Y’shtola smiled lightly. “Indeed.” 

Silence lingered for several moments before Kohanya spoke up, reaching to take the bowl and wash rag from the other woman. “Alisaie told me where you were sending her. You can go find her and Lyse, let them know that I’ll get Atara back to our tent.”

With a touch of hesitation, Y’shtola nodded, yielding care to the scholar as she slipped away, the tent flap falling closed behind her to silence. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is having a good day.

Kohanya sighed lightly as the other miqo’te left, her tail flicking as she turned to look to the unconscious au ra, her eyes narrowing. She knows the dark spirit that’s been with the woman since taking up the greatsword is there, though she’s never seen it herself, hissing out her words. “If you can hear me... I really need a name for you, but you know I know you're there, shut up and simmer down, you're making her worse. You've got about a minute while I get someone to carry her to her tent, and if you're not tucked back away so you don't screw up her healing, I will take the purest, whitest, healingest spells I've got and throw them right in your face.” 

Her threat issued, she turned and stalked back to the tent flap, opening it and peering about for assistance. Nearby, a tall elezen woman of the Twin Adler was fiddling with her lance, looking bored and out of place, but the bandage on her cheek at least gave her a reason for loitering around the medical tents. She all but snapped to attention when Kohanya came towards her, but was ready and eager to help, clearly looking for reasons to not be doing whatever she was supposed to be doing. She’s was a bit alarmed when she figured out that one Warrior of Light was tending the other, but was easily reassured that things would be alright and Kohanya just needed assistance in getting the au ra back to their private tent, since doing it on her own would be more akin to dragging a body than carrying an injured person. 

The miqo’s tail flicked as she led the way through the medical tends to the quieter part of the camp where the private area was set, extending her senses to pinpoint Estinien’s essence again. He moved, but he had told her he was going to retrieve Atara’s sword after she briefly threatened him to stay in the camp, promising to return. Once the Adler dragoon had settled Atara on her bed, Kohanya shooed her off, leaving the pair alone in their tent. 

Turning her attention back to her friend, she drew her tome and called Eos to her, crouching down and examining the other woman as Eos shifted about in her own examination. The brief walk had allowed her a chance to clear her mind, and now with more focus she turned her attention to the au ra and the remaining wounds. It was clear to her that Y’shtola had largely focused on the present, concerned with the major wound on Atara’s back, leaving the dark knight with numerous bruises and other cuts still unattended, but they weren’t openly bleeding. She let Eos tend to those, focusing her senses deeper.

Her jaw tightened. Evidence of numerous sword wounds and punctures that had been healed over the last moon or two came to light as she looked Atara over, and healed well enough to not leave mark, but the ‘atherburn like wounds’ that Y’shtola had briefly sensed allowed Kohanya to track them much greater, the inflammation lingering to her aether below where injury had been. She closed her eyes at the severity and sheer number she found, her ears turning back as emotion riled within her. Clearly the au ra had hidden it from her, and she could fairly easily guess the reason why. 

She gently traced her fingertips along the back injury, keeping the touch of her healing light until she could determine if it harmed or helped, but she had a growing suspicion that the healing difficulty had more to do with the person or method of inflicting the wounds at this point, rather than the dark guest the au ra had picked up upon obtaining her dark knight skills. She felt muscle and skin relax and accept the healing below her hand, and focused her attention a bit more on it as she muttered. “I wish you could talk, spirit. You might be more honest than she is, right now.”

The soft words drew a slight hitch in breathing from Atara and a sense of the darker aether reaching out for Kohanya, but as with any other past encounter with the darkness, it recoiled at sensing the miqo’te’s natural shielding. Not exactly known for making the wisest decisions herself when it came to the pursuit of knowledge, Kohanya allowed herself to open up, giving the spirit the permission it needed to reach out, since it was being so cooperative with her. A shiver flowed down her spine at the sensation of being intensely scrutinized that came from this opening up, and she became aware of a presence sitting at the foot of Atara’s bed, watching her. Eos makes a slight sound of similar discomfort and shied away from the presence, but it does not interfere with the healing being done by the fae and scholar, though there’s a definite sense of annoyance with it. 

A ghost of a touch along her ear caused Kohanya to flick it, her eyes widening in surprise and hands dropping her tome on her foot as a moment later a deep, androgynous voice speaks into her ear from nothingness. “I can talk, as long as you allow yourself to hear it.” The spirit’s tone dripped with malice and danger, Kohanya’s ears pressed down as she scrambled to pick up her book. Atara shifted, making a noise of discomfort as if she unconsciously knew of the danger Kohanya was putting herself in for answers. “Keep her quiet, and we can talk.”

Making a light sound, Kohanya reached a thread of a sleep spell out to still and calm the au ra, her shifting stilling as she relaxed again. Swallowing lightly, the scholar continued her healing as she started to talk with the communicative spirit. “You’re what fuels her abilities, right? Not that I'm not grateful in general, but whatever she's doing with Zenos - and don't try and tell me it's just fighting, I've been hurt by him in combat and I know what that looks like - you seem to be making it worse when you're close when her idiot self tries to deal with it on her idiot lonesome."

Kohanya could ‘see’ the spirit, a sense of what it looked like as it sat at the foot of the bed, legs crossed and arms crossed over it’s chest in a pose she so often saw Ishgarian elezen casually take. The first question draws a pause before a reply. "Consider me more a mentor. When she is strong enough, I guide her to new techniques. When she is weak, I take what I can." There's an obvious dislike from it that rises at mention of Zenos. "I will leave her to explain her decision to continue to engage that man. It is not a method for gaining strength that I would advocate. Dragons' blood would be better if it didn't have such an...adverse physical change." It scoffs, then. "Why would I wish to endanger my chance of having a new physical vessel to walk the land with by hindering her healing?"

That sense of the spirit being of Ishgardian or Coerthan origin only solidified more at the mention of dragon’s blood, the miqo having a considerate amount of experience dealing with arrogant elezen by this point. "Mmm. She's not actually got draconic heritage though, right? Nidhogg indicated fairly strongly to me that if it could change those who didn't have ancestors who consumed it, it wouldn't have the same effect, when..." She trails off then adds, hurriedly, "And if you share her opinion on that, don't you start lecturing me about it too. It worked out just fine. And if you're not the problem, why can't she heal the wounds properly? Something in the weapons Zenos is using?"

The shrug from the spirit was almost audible, but definitely sensed. "Just because scholars think that au ra are not actually descended from dragons means nothing about if there is any blood in her. Her kind are wanderers. It would be less of a risk for her to partake of Nidhogg or even Hrasevagler's blood than what she's doing." A bit more dark amusement. "Oh, she realizes her hypocrisy and the irony of this decision making path, I assure you." The question returning to what the problem is draws another pause, like it's calculating how much telling will help or hinder its own goals, but it seems the long term patient type. "Both his weaponry, and something on her person that exaggerates it that I doubt she's even aware of." The spirit leans in, another ghostly touch, this time along the miqo's cheek. "She's not one for fancy jewelry like someone more delicate such as yourself is. Strange, then, how she would put something on her choker that's not Materia."

"... That is one of the least reassuring statements I have ever heard someone say." Kohanya mutters softly at the explanation, the muscles in her cheek twitching slightly at the ghostly touch. At the hint, she turns her gaze to Atara's sleeping form and her necklace, turning the choker around carefully to examine it more closely. "I can hope she'll stop whatever she's doing to find him once she wakes up and tells me, but I have a bad feeling about that." The choker is one that she herself has and wears often enough, so spying the red thing on the back of the curio comes quickly, she taking the choker from the au ra’s neck and trying to get a closer look at the foreign object, glancing up when Eos notes the mark left on Atara’s neck that was hidden below the choker.

Once the object is spied, the sense that the spirit is ‘done’ comes as no further words or feel of it is there, Eos moving with a calmer motion to perch on Kohanya’s shoulder as the miqo’te looks at the newest piece of the puzzle. She can’t help but wrinkle her nose slightly in distaste, the object, a chip, having the unmistakable sense of being from Azys Lla due to it’s coloration and the mild buzz emanating from it, nothing but sorrow and pain associated with the floating series of islands in her mind. Fishing about in her packs for an empty glass bottle from her alchemy studies, Kohanya finds one and carefully plucks the chip from the curio, shivering at the off feeling from it before she puts it into the bottle and corks it. WIth the spirit gone, she lets the sleep spell fade, an ear twitching as she hears the sounds of gradual wakefulness drawn from the other woman, shifting to crouch at the bedside, shoulders straightening as she watches the other wake with a cool expression. 

Drawing in a breath through her nose and rolling onto her back, Atara squints up at the ceiling of the tent with a measure of confusion before realization crosses her features, reaching up to hold her hand over her eyes as she mutters lightly. “Estinien.” 

"Is waiting for me to come back and fetch him after I uttered dire proclamations about what I would do if he dared move a single ilm from where I left him after I was brought to heal you. He did, however, say you had an 'encounter' of some sorts with Zenos." The miqo'te rocks on her heels a little, the dark blood hue of her gaze narrowing. "And he did the oddest thing when he did that, Atara. He blushed. Do you have any idea what sort of things it takes to make Estinien blush? So whatever you were up to, I know it wasn't just combat."

Atara’s tailtip thumps audibly against the bed as she hears that tone of voice next to her, her expression otherwise unreadable. She replaces her hand with her whole forearm draped over her eyes, a soft tremble shaking her shoulders as she sighs. “Our ‘friend’ needed to be kept occupied.” Bringing her arm down and adjusting how she was laying, not opening her eyes again but having the sense to not turn her back to the healer, facing out into the tent. 

"Our 'friend' does not need occupied at the expense of your long term health and safety!" Kohanya snaps, shoving her tome back into its carrying straps. "I can't say I'd be happy if you were were just fucking him - and don't tell me you're not, it's the only thing I can imagine you were doing that Estinien wouldn't just tell me, and I can tell where you’ve been healing yourself - but you're doing the damned sacrifice yourself for others thing somehow in doing it, and I know, I  _ know  _ you are aware of how I feel about people continuing to insist on sacrificing themselves for me without my consent." It's probably just as well she's not au ra, because if she was, her limbal rings would be lighting up the tent. As it is, her ears are canted back til nearly flat in her hair, the thick fluff on her tail standing on end as well til it looks nearly three times its usual size.

Atara curls her lip slightly. "It wasn't...I was  _ fine _ until lately, and I'd have been  _ fine _ today if Estinien hadn't pissed me off!" Atara growls back, the light of her own eyes doing enough to add a hue to the light of the tent as she opens them to fix the miqo'te with her gaze. She pushes herself up on her elbow, jaw tight, her tailtip lashing back and forth. "And like you'd consent to anyone doing anything for you if we even tried to tell you, I can at least handle this! Being sore for a few days is better than the fucking alternative."

Tension still keeping every bit of her taut, the tip of her tail vibrating like a rattlesnake, Kohanya says with a soft growl to her voice. "Don't you blame this on him. Y'shtola said you had injuries to your aether from trying to heal this, which I can see too, and the bastard had some sort of... magitek planted on you. As for if I'd consent, of course I wouldn't. Just because I'm not the kind of Warrior of Light who carries around a giant sword doesn't mean I can't handle problems, including Zenos if I have to!"

The dark knight snorts. "If he was blushing he certainly wasn't..." She roughly runs her fingers through her hair as she cuts herself off, reaching her hand down to draw her nails along her neck with a touch that makes Eos pay attention, the fae drifting closer to the au ra. "Magitek? What are you talking about? And no, no you couldn't handle this, and like hell I'd let you even risk trying! He's..he would.." Her voice wavers a moment before she stiffens her shoulders, but her voice loses it's edge and the light softens, voice weak as she surrenders to the point. "I don't doubt his threat and I'm not going to let it happen."

Blood-red eyes narrowing, Kohanya gestures a little to give Eos free reign to do as she will, fairly certain by this point in their relationship that the au ra won’t attempt to swat the fae away. Eos flickers in close, Atara slightly lifting her chin as the spirit ducks her head under and almost nestles against the dark knight’s neck. “I took some sort of magitek device off of your choker after your ride-along friend pointed it out to me, and I didn't say I was going to try. But I'm not letting you keep going to get beat up and the Gods only know what else just so you can avoid the chance that Zenos might catch me alone and might be able to do whatever he's convinced you he's going to do with me.” 

Atara seems to be having issues gathering her thoughts and processing what’s been said, her brow furrowing as she first registers some of what Kohanya said, seeming a bit alarmed. “You..you talked to it? You heard it? Anya, that’s not…” She winces slightly as Eos reaches to touch the red mark with her small hand.

“To my surprise it answered when I asked, so much so I dropped my book on my toe.” Kohanya muttered lightly, glancing up and watching Eos with a furrowed brow.

The moment the remainder of what the miqo’te said filters to the front of Atara’s thoughts is obvious with the look of fear that comes over her features as she leans forward a bit, letting the previous thought go as the more pressing, clearly frightening one comes to the fore. "Anya, no, you can't...Zenos...he..." She's obviously flustered, her tail lashing against the bed. "It would be worse than death! Losing you or me would...losing you especially would hit so much, and...he would destroy you, ruin you!" The woman growls lightly and pushes herself upright, swaying a little in place. Eos keeps close to her, and after a moment casts her version of Esuna, and tries to instruct Kohanya to do so as well with a good bit of insistence in her push. The bottle with the small chip makes a very soft rattle sound as if the chip inside moved, a soft enough sound the au ra doesn’t hear. 

Kohanya’s ear twitches as she hears the soft rattle against the glass, her jaw setting. "Don't give me that. Losing you would hit Lyse as hard as losing me would hit Aymeric, wouldn't it? So don't even try. You can see as well as I can where things are going there. As for Zenos..." She leans forward, curling her hand over the spot Eos indicated to channel her own Esuna into it, probing some to try to get a sense of what she’s somewhat blindly cleansing. Only the ghost of it left just beyond her grasp, but something was clearly there in a significant amount, just normal enough to have passed her close examination before. She narrows her gaze at the bottle. "... Maybe I should get that thing out of here before I say anything else. But stop assuming I'm weak."

Atara’s pulse thunders below the miqo’te’s hand, the tremble and sway to her form obvious. She hangs her head some, eyes closing as she speaks. “You’re not weak, Anya, I am for being afraid, I guess.” 

Kohanya eyes the bottle again and hisses softly, slowly rising to her feet. “You’re not. You’re also drugged and this damnable chip is making it worse.” She picks up the bottle, ears flat still but only more so at the feel of warmth to the glass. “I'm taking the chip to whoever from the Ironworks I can find first. If I come back and you are not in this bed? I will tell Alphinaud every single detail I can think of about you and Alisaie and what you like in bed and let him draw his own conclusions."

“‘m not drugged, jus’ tired.” Atara protests, glancing to the other woman before the motion seems too much and she starts to lay down on her bed again. “T-that’s just mean, traumatizing the poor boy.” The threat does get her to settle back down, however. “...just tired.” She quietly protests again.

"I've traumatized him before, I'll do it again out of love if need be." Kohanya shoots the tent's other occupant a dirty look. "Why are you even questioning your healer specialist friend about if there's something in your system? Think that through." She straightens up and flicks her tail once in a vain attempt to smooth down her fur. “I’ll be back, and you’d best still be here.” She doesn’t wait for an answer and misses the confused look at her back, all but stalking from the tent and quickly through the camp, heading for the Ironworks garage and leaving Eos to stay with the au ra if for nothing else but to get an advance warning if the woman tries something stupid.

Kohanya stalks through the camp, her ears turned to the sides and tail still lashing about behind her. The way was clear to the Ironworks garage, her eyes casting around and settling on Jessie, the woman standing at a drafting table. She’s surprised as the miqo’te approaches, looking confused first by her being in the garage in the first place, then again at the bottle that’s handed to her, the glass and chip no longer warmer inside. The engineer starts to open her mouth before Kohanya interrupts and answers the obvious question. “Zenos put this on something of Atara’s, and I think it was doing something to her. Don’t let her come and get it, it’s…” She paused a moment, gesturing with a hand. “Poke-y. Please just keep it away if she shows up?”

Jessie blinked owlishly behind her goggles. “Gods, okay, sure. It’s clearly Allagan, we’ve some experts on that, then there’s always Nero, and Cid by extension since he doesn’t let Nero do anything alone just about..” She trailed off, holding the bottle up to the light and peering at the chip inside, quickly lost in her thoughts. Knowing better than trying for any further conversation, Kohanya turned and eagerly slipped from the magitech garage, heading towards where she had last left Estinien.

* * *

As promised, Estinien is waiting near the training grounds where Kohanya had left him before going to help Atara. The dragoon had obviously left for a brief period, Atara’s sword and pack on the ground at his side, but he returned. He’s watching the training happening nearby, but quickly spies the approaching scholar and straightens. 

Kohanya turns her face up as she approaches and draws near, stopping a fulm away, her eyes steady on his. "How long did you know, and what did she tell you? Because she just mumbled a lot of poor decisions about protecting me."

The tall elezen watches his lover for a steady moment, then softly replies, voice low. “I had an idea of it about two moons ago. She returned here early in the morning one day and did not come out of the tent for two days. You were in Ishgard." He glances to the side, his usual mild scowl gaining an edge of a frown. "I did not follow her until the time before this, and chose to this time because I noted her 'trips' were slightly higher in frequency if you were here and not in Ishgard.” A moment’s pause and he flexes his hands at his sides. “You are not responsible for her poor choices, kitten.”

Though she tries to hold it, after a moment she sighs a soft breath and drops her arms from across her chest. She reaches for the dragoon’s hand with a certain hesitation, reaching half way. “I'm going to be kind and assume that you didn't bring it up earlier because you thought it was her private business, but the instant you thought it was about me, I wish you'd told me. Whether or not I'm responsible, I deserve to know.” She straightens her shoulders a bit as her chin lifts a little, proud and nervous all at once.

Moving slowly, Estinien meets the reach halfway, his large, rough hand enclosing the miqo’te’s smaller one. “I wasn’t certain it was about you and I didn’t wish to cause you undue worry.” His other hand reached to softly stroke the back of his fingers against her pale cheek. “It only came to mind the time before last and only confirmed today.”

Not at her best at maintaining irritation at that touch, Kohanya turns into it a little, her eyes half-closing for a moment. "Not so bad as I feared then, perhaps. I just... I don't like her... I don't like anyone trying to sacrifice themselves for me." She opens her eyes again and scrutinizes the elezen, tiredness threading into her countenance. "I'll find out and worry anyway, you know. Just like I do about you when you insist on being away to get your head in order. You'll at least stay through the morning? It would ease my mind."

The corner of Estinien’s lips quirk in a faint smile, a touch of a sideways glance at the reminder of the miqo’s worry for  _ him  _ as he slightly clears his throat, gently squeezing Kohanya’s hand. “I will stay wherever you would like me to.”

Kohanya smiled lightly, her fingers curling around that hand holding hers and tugging gently. “As if I'd send you away to sleep.” She starts to weave her way back through the lines of tents and to the private area, leading Estinien along after the elezen picks up the recovered gear. Occasional glances to the dragoon from the scholar catch his gaze cast across the camp, expression mostly smooth, but eyes thoughtful with the faintest crease to his brow. 

The return to the tent finds the au ra still there, but she didn’t seem to rest, her gear showing signs of having been rustled through in an unfocused fashion, bag spilled open next to her bed. A fire has been started in the stove, though it’s not exactly the coldest time of the season. She’s seated at the side of her bed with Eos on her shoulder, leaned forward with elbows on her knees and a canteen in one hand and head in the other. She lifts her eyes as the tent flap opens, sharing a brief glance with the elezen before closing her eyes again. 

Kohanya takes in the room a moment with a slight scoffing sound, squeezing Estinien’s hand as she speaks. “What'd you get out of your bag other than the canteen? I should look through all of your things in the morning to make sure that was the only... whatever it was.” 

Exhaling a breath through her nose, Atara glances up at the scholar and looks for half a moment like she’s going to be difficult, but as Eos flits off and her shoulders sag, she goes for the straight answer. “Half a bottle of Qirin Firewater, which I drank, my canteen, and my spare sword.” She gestures with the canteen at the simple blade against the side of the bed, but can’t help but look slightly relieved as Estinien leans over to rest her normal weapon there as well. He seems to consider a moment, then takes Kohanya’s idea to search Atara’s gear to heart and deposits her recovered bag at the base of the miqo’te’s bed instead, earning a light snort of amusement from the au ra. 

"I'm perfectly happy to be the difficult one here for once." Kohanya says mildly, considering that list and nodding her head. "Alright. That should be safe enough and I know you'll sleep better having a blade near you. Are you going to try and sleep?" She gives a brief stroking of her thumb over the back of Estinien's hand when he drops the pack next to her bed instead, clearly appreciating the decision.

“That’s what the Firewater was for.” Atara replies as she takes another drink from her canteen, setting it aside and carefully laying down on her side again, this time with her back to the other tent occupants. “I don’t...I don’t know what to think about anything right now so I’d rather not think at all.” The au ra isn’t exactly a lightweight in most situations, but with the blood loss and her tiredness, the Firewater seems to have been enough as she starts to relax, words slightly slurred as she speaks again. “Thanks for m’ sword, Estinien.” 

The dragoon arches a brow at the thanks, returning the squeeze to Kohanya’s hand. He makes his own sound of acknowledgement to the dark knight as he sets his lance to the side of the tent entry.

“I would hope that’s why you drank, but I've learned that with most people I'm close to, it's dangerous to go assuming the sensible conclusion.” Kohanya muttered, nudging Estinien closer to the stove and the rug in front of it. “Rest, we’ll be quiet.” Which probably sounds worse than she means as Estinien smoothly sits and she promptly claims his lap, leaning in against his shoulder.

While other times she may have laughed at the comment, a slight flick of Atara’s tail is the only acknowledgement that comes, her self-tranquilizing attempt seeming successful a few moments later as her breathing soothes. The light of the tent softens as Eos slips off, Estinien smiling at the choice of where to sit as his arms gently settle around Kohanya’s waist. His voice is low as he speaks, leaning in to brush his lips over her forehead. “You need to rest as well. Your mind is jumbled, I can tell by the cant of your ears.” 

Those ears tremble some as Kohanya hears the other woman drift off, letting herself express her tension and emotion a bit more now that she won’t be seen. She sighs lightly and nods, holding to Estinien’s chest and shifting so her cheek can feel his heart. “I’ll try.” She murmurs, letting her eyes close. 

Estinien gently caresses his hand over Kohanya’s dark hair and along her back, keeping her close until he feels her soften and fall asleep. Once she does, he carefully shifts, gathering her in his arms and moving to settle her on her own bed, gently pulling the blanket up over her form. He resettles, this time at the side of the bed, something inside him stirring him to stay at watch over his lover and her friend for the eve, unable to shake the mild sense of being watched even within the tent and separated from the rest of the camp by some distance. He listens to the breathing of the two sleeping women, gradually finding some measure of his own relaxation, eyes not quite closed, but ears still alert.

Then, the nightmare comes. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY MUCH NSFW. Rape/noncon, torture, bloodplay

She’d legitimately had never expected Zenos to go this far. Not with his flowery words about the two warriors being his only friends and his truest enemies, not when he seemed so intent to simply partake occasionally in the deadly dance. Her mind initially refused to accept the sight in front of her, the sound of Atara’s sword thudding to the ground startling her with a shake of her shoulders, her eyes wide as they refocused on the scene. 

Zenos had the au ra literally pinned to the tree, somehow he had deflected her sword, and his had gone smoothly through her waist and into the tree behind. She stared at him in disbelief, her normally warm colored skin going pale as crimson bloomed on her lips in an echo of her eyes. She looked down to the samurai sword piercing her stomach, trembling hands reaching for the bloodied steel. 

He watched her with an unreadable expression, body still posed in the striking motion, hands still curled around the hilt. If the dark knight had tried to speak, nothing came out but a spurt of blood, her focus on where her hands curled around the sword. Zenos let go of the sword and slowly stood up straight, his eyes never leaving Atara’s face as he watched her begin to flirt with death. Eos didn’t exactly panic, the fae flying forward and to the side to stay out of Zenos’ way, but there was an obvious urgency in her motion. Zenos looked to the glowing familiar as he felt the magic flowing, a smirk curling his wicked smile. 

“Yes, insect, keep her alive.” He growled out, turning away from the trapped woman and looking toward the stunned miqo’te, the clank of his greaves loud on the stone in the stunned silence that had fallen over the area as he approached the healer. 

Blinking her eyes away from staring at Atara, Kohanya’s ears pressed back into her hair as she focused on Zenos, anger rising like bile and clouding her thoughts as her heartbeat began to thunder in her ears, her tail fur lifted as the long appendage began to lash back and forth behind her. She dare not back up from the man, starting to circle to the side in order to keep Eos within range of helping the dark knight, though she could tell without looking that all Eos was doing was keeping the woman on the edge and that would be all she’d be able to do, needing the scholar herself.

Deft fingers flicked the pages of her tome to the spells that corrupted and weakened rather than aided, all without looking down as she watched the approaching towering figure. All she could focus on was the gesture and mumbled incantation for the most powerful ‘Ruin’ she could control as she bared her fangs in a growl, throwing her hand forward as the orb of the spell raced forward and struck Zenos square in his broad chest.

If it did anything she’d be hard pressed to say, he showed no reaction other than to surge forward with a sudden movement, knocking away her book and knocking her prone as he slammed his form into hers. She felt the sting of a blade followed by the blooming of pain and heat as he sliced her with a hidden dagger across her stomach, the stinging fire spreading through her core. The scholar rolled as he struck down at her, his fist connecting with the ground with an alarming crash. Another line of fire across her shoulders behind the cold strike of metal, Kohanya trying to roll from his pursuit. 

He successfully put himself between her and her tome, keeping her from casting her strongest spells, but she knew some of the incantations and gestures by heart, and called on as many as she could as she dodged and evaded the swings and slashes from the large Garlean prince. Where Atara could withstand the strikes, she could most of the time get away, panting softly as she let her anger and the pain of the two wounds drive her on. The strain from her weakening spells and she hoped the roiling illness in his gut was visible on Zenos’ features as he scowled at her. 

“I was going to be more...merciful, but I see you ascribe to the Eorzean savage image far more than your companion, and that is taking her profession into mind.” Zenos sneered, discarding his cape as he thrust forward in what seemed like an overly obvious stabbing attempt at her shoulder, Kohanya easily dodging backwards like she was evading the point of Estinien’s lance during one of their sparring sessions.

Eos called out in her mind in a panic as her dodging nearly forced the fae too far from her injured companion, the miqo instinctively stopping her backwards motion to instead try to dart under Zenos’ swinging arm and get behind him. She almost did, feeling the air pass over her head from his wide strike, but then the harshest, sharpest pain yet briefly stole her vision as she felt him slice the back of her leg. The now useless limb crumbled under her weight, sending her to the ground with a cry of pain and anger. 

Zenos wasted no time as Kohanya pitched forward as her leg gave out, balling his hand into a tight fist as he struck out at the back of her head. The healer saw stars...then, nothing.

The chill of air on bare skin was the first sense to return to her, one of Kohanya’s ears twitching as she drew her mind from the dark. Her entire body ached, and she came to the gradual realization that she was bare and bound, her arms bent at the edge of strain behind her, rough rope biting into pale skin, the throbbing pain of the gash across her shoulders only accented by the position as it ground against the fabric she found herself laid on. It felt as if she had been soundly beaten while unconscious, the deep pain of forming bruises across her chest and stomach, ribs aching with the sensation of deep bruising at the very least, likely more from being broken. As she shifted and extended her senses to take stock of her injuries, she found several more cuts and gashes, like her clothing had been roughly cut away and she cut as well in the process, the deep cuts on her abdomen and crippling her leg still open and oozing. Her jaw strained against the leather belt that gagged her, she focused her breathing through her nose instead. 

She could see Zenos a distance away, standing silently in front of the woman pinned to the tree, a second sword piercing the au ra’s right shoulder in what seemed a cruel attempt to keep her more upright instead of sagged over the sword in her gut. Though her head was hanging, she could tell Atara was conscious, eyes watching Zenos as the two exchanged words. Her connection to Eos allowed her to feel the distress from the familiar, torn between who to aid and forced to focus on the brutalized au ra as some sort of magic throbbed from the swords, keeping the dark knight from using her more desperate abilities. 

Kohanya couldn’t help but feel a twinge of smug pride at noticing the spidering of toxic damage along Zenos’ shoulders and down his bare back as the visible impact of her corrupting magic was evidence of her spells landing on their mark. Ears pinning back as her motion drew the attention of the blond giant, she briefly let her eyes meet with Atara’s, the au ra difficult to read below her pain, but Zenos put himself into her line of vision as he turned and started to virtually saunter towards her. His expression was easy to read; confident, smug, triumphant. Aroused. Her ears flicked as she tried hard to resist looking, but her eyes drew down anyway. More evidence that her spells were doing damage, or at least had done damage, red marks like splash burns of hot liquid across his pale skin, and she knew most of the damage from that was deep in the muscle. 

“The little wildcat proud of her damage, I see.” He remarked as he came to a stop at her feet. She had figured at this point that she was laid on his cloak, the belt gagging her that she tried her damndest to chew through was his, and she was forced spread eagle with rope about her ankles tied then to the hilt of two swords jammed into the dirt as far apart as he could force her. “Savor the moment then, Kohanya. Let it be your last comforting thought before I have my way with you.” 

Zenos crouched down between her legs, his hand idly undoing his pants, the obvious bulge there soon free as he let his manhood loose. “Did you know, wildcat, that one of the powers of the Echo is to change one’s form at will?” He slowly ran one hand up along the inside of her leg, feeling the twitch of muscle as she strained against the binding, this leg uninjured enough to do so while the muscle injury of the other kept it still. “I’m of a mind to do nothing but take my pleasure from you. You can thank your companion there..” He gestured with his head toward the au ra behind. “She broke her word, you see.” One ear perked at hearing the groan and hiss of strained anger from Atara as Zenos spoke, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the prince. 

“She disagreed with my ideas for spending...time with you.” Somehow his hand was both rough and soft, like a perverted combination of Aymeric and Estinien, caressing up along the inside of her thigh and smearing some blood from the wound on her thigh that hobbled her onto his fingertips. He drew his hand back, idly painting his shaft with her blood, highlighting the fact that he seemed to be enlarging with that earlier mentioned ‘power’ from the Echo. She bared her teeth the best she could around the belt, hissing a breath through it as she growled at him. He was like a nightmare combination of the two men she loved more than anything, able to see hints of them in his body, his face, his hair, even his eyes seemed a mingled shade of their blue, but lacked the gentleness she had come to find with her lovers. Zenos’ eyes burned with a fanaticism that went past the border and well into terrifying. 

He looked over his shoulder to Atara, one hand continuing to idly stroke himself with the sticky blood, his maleness shifting to a decidedly less hyur look and more towards a beasial, draconic sense that threw her mind to Estinien as the tip sharpened. “So in order to sate my desires, she offered herself to me. To meet me on a regular basis, to fight and to fuck and to do it again and again.” Briefly somehow, the reality of the situation rose into question as Zenos spoke, the words he used sounding a chord in Kohanya’s thoughts as things someone else had said not so long ago, his rendition lacking the regretful emotion that was laced through the phrase originally. For a moment, air became thick and hot and her body felt like all the pain was nothing but an imagined empathic thought as she briefly entertained the thought she could somehow blink her eyes and be away from the horror in front of her.

She reflexively arched and twisted her hips as he suddenly, abruptly grasped her core, two thick fingers roughly pressing up into her and finding her body betraying her mind as some natural slickness was found there. His lips curled into a smirk as he dragged his fingers up over her sex, roughly grinding against her pearl before drawing his hand away as he stood, towering over her. “So now, we get to play.” He growled in a threatening tone, and somehow he was fully naked a moment later, kneeling down between her spread legs, seeming larger and more muscled, on the edge of an animalistic transformation as he smirked at his captive. His immense form leaning over her as he watched her face and the roiling emotions there as the miqo struggled against her bindings, ignoring the pain in her shoulders as she twisted her wrists against the rough rope, desperately trying to wrench her hands free as she felt her skin tear from the roughness, blood soaking into the hemp, the sting of flakes of the rope digging into the now open skin.

Zenos leaned down, his long hair falling over his shoulder to brush over her chest, a sharp contrasting touch of softness against the flares of pain spiking randomly through her body, the heat of his breath felt washing over her skin as he leaned down close to her face, eyes bright with his triumphant grin. “Yesss…” he groaned, his voice thick with a lust far too similar to his battle frenzy. “...struggle for me, I want to feel you writhe below me.” His fingers played over the open wound in her abdomen, her muscles reflexively jerking as her breath caught in her throat only to be loosed with a pained whimper as her breath huffed against the belt. She dimly registered that her tail was bound to her immobile leg as the tip flickered about in pain, jerking the furred thing against its binding as intently as she continued to try to struggle her wrists free. 

Kohanya growled as she heard Zenos draw in a breath of her scent, the man looking euphoric above her as he savored her struggle and the scent of blood. Roughly grinding his fingers into the abdominal wound, his other hand gripped himself and guided his tip to her exposed sex, her mind only briefly registering this above the gasping pain his fingers dragged from her, only for it to be slammed home into her awareness as he thrust deep with one harsh motion, caring not for the fact that she was far from physically prepared. Her back arched as she clenched her eyes shut, tossing her head to the side as her jaw strained in the bite on the belt as he forced himself into her, his thickness so much more than either of her lovers, the firmness of the ridges on the underside of his transformed cock feeling like they were trying to drag her outer lips into herself with the rest of him as he pressed in. 

Her mind went white with the pain of the intrusion, Zenos’ transformed cock thick and hot and straining her limits as he steadily pushed forward, cramming more of himself into her sex. She felt delicate skin tear and bruise in several places at once within her unprepared cunt, the heat of blood causing Zenos to moan deep and briefly close his eyes, his third eye pressing against the bound miqo’s shoulder as his back arched, a tremble flowing through him at the unwilling lubrication. He was impossibly large, and her body strained to try to accommodate him. 

Satisfied with the depth he reached, he grabbed her hip with one large hand, dragging her up to meet his thrusts as he began to move in a rough, intense pace, pulling entirely free and giving her the barest brief moment of relief before tearing her open again as he drove in again and again. No new wounds opened, but those that existed were stretched and ripped further, blood both lubrication and sticky enough to drag and pull with his thrusting motions. Pain seared through her with every motion, fingers continuing to dig and drag over the wound in her gut, painting her chest with her own blood as his hand roamed over her chest, fingers gripping like vises down on unwillingly peaked nipples and pressing bruises into her breasts. Her mind was dimly aware of Eos’ fear as the fae tried to spare what healing towards her mistress she could, the familiar a bundle of helpless tension and anxiety and fear. Kohanya felt the struggle with Eos in her unconscious mind, the fae’s desire to abandon all else and aid the scholar at odds with Kohanya’s desperate focused need to keep the au ra nearby alive as she tried desperately to focus her mind on anything but the feeling of the man moving above her.

His unnatural stamina kept him moving at a steady pace, no sign of him draining or slowing, though after spending his time wrecking her sex, he exhaled and drove as fully into her as he could, his groin grinding against hers as his shaft twitched and pulsed within her, the heat of his seed filling her even more than he himself had as she felt her womb bloat with his seed and some of the sticky heat squeeze free of her past his shaft. Zenos shuddered as Kohanya panted and wept, her shoulders writhing now in a state of pain rather than trying to free herself, her eyes clenched tight. She tried to think of Aymeric, of Estinien, of anywhere but the hell she and Atara found themselves in. “You can stop this, you know.” Zenos spoke with unearthly calm as her mind scrambled for thought away from him, disbelieving his words. He chuckled as he could tell she didn’t believe him, clicking his tongue 

She felt Zenos slide her body down, forcing her knees to bend as he adjusted her position below him, her eyes slitting open to barely register him above her as she turned her face away, trying to get a glimpse of the au ra by the tree through her tear clouded vision. All that she noted was the jerk and shudder of Atara’s form as a ragged cry was dragged from her throat, the adjusted positioning having been so Zenos could force himself into her bowels, his tapered tip spearing through her back gate and opening her just enough for him to drag her open with his rough thrust. More blood rose to join that already smeared over her form and oozing from her open sex, mingling with the seed that drooled from her and only helped make his passage into her ass easy once he strained her open. 

Her skin trembled and muscles twitched as he pounded into her, hips slapping wetly and stickily against her bruised and bloodied form. The hand not holding her hips was busy dragging the tip of his dagger along her chest, leaving shallow cuts that swelled with blood and stung with the touch of salt from her sweat, little trails of fire and pain that caused her skin to shudder as he drew idle designs in her flesh. Zenos bared his teeth and leaned over her, eyes wide with a maniacal smile as he savored the agony on her features, turning his head to listen to the sounds from the pinned au ra and looking entirely in a place of bliss as he soaked in the pain from the duo, emotional and physical and caused by him, reveling in his dominance. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against Kohanya’s ear as he spoke into it, voice and breath huffing over the sensitive thing as he rocked her form down against the ground. “Just think...how strong you will be on the other side of this. You won’t let it break you, will you?” His teeth closed at the edge of her ear, shoulders shaking as she managed to find the strength to answer him with a growl, even though she knew it was what he wanted to hear, she needed to grasp to the thought herself. Behind all of the pain ignited a burning desire to do exactly that; to grow stronger and fill with the strength she would need to push away his darkness, to sear him from her body and mind. 

* * *

Estinien uncomfortably shifted where he sat near the stove in the tent the two women shared. 

Though he himself didn’t fall asleep, he wasn’t entirely certain of how much time had passed before he heard a set of noises he was most displeased with; the groan and soft whimper from Kohanya, and near simultaneously, a grunt of discomfort from Atara. A low sound rumbled in his throat as he shifted and moved forward, crouching by the side of the miqo as he impatiently waited for her to ride out the vision, assuming the pair were grasped by an Echo, even in their sleep.

The light sounds of distress from both women certainly did not help his patience. 

Most of his focus was on Kohanya, his hand cupped over hers as he watched her expression grow pained and her breath hitch in her throat, though he looked over when Atara growled raggedly, the dark knight jerking once on her bed before she stilled. The keening noise which came from Kohanya shortly thereafter was frankly enough for the dragoon, gritting his teeth as he fought against the urge to shout and yell. Krile’s warning about interrupting someone amid an Echo rang in his thoughts, but every possessive, protective instinct was screaming in his mind, blood roaring through his ears. He wasn’t sure which woman had triggered the Echo if it was their own thoughts, but opted to reach over and shove at Atara’s shoulder, pushing the au ra onto her stomach before he more gently grasped Kohanya’s shoulder and shook. 

Atara reacted how he expected to, the woman gasping out in a half shout as she jerked and flailed out one arm at nothing as she jolted onto her hands and knees, throwing herself backwards like away from a fire and half falling from the foot of her bed. Her eyes wide as she cast about for her sword, dragging it to her from where it had been placed next to her bed as she breathed heavily, panting. Kohanya didn’t wake much more gently, her back arching as a powerful shudder wracked her body as she cried out, eyes flashing open but not yet seeing for a moment as she instinctively called Eos before reaching out and grasping to Estinien’s shoulder, dragging herself closer to him. Even the fae seemed agitated and unsure as she flicked about back and forth between the two warriors as if she were fully expecting grievous injury. 

"N-nightmare, Ta. It was just a nightmare! Put the sword down!" Kohanya called out as she saw the light from the other woman’s eyes and heard her frantic breathing and the drag of her sword against the floor of the tent.

Her blood then ran cold as a voice spoke in her ear, the dark spirit murmuring lightly. “This is what she was bargaining with Zenos to prevent, what she’s so terrified of…” It’s a whisper laced with dark amusement and malice, the faint chuckle of laughter from it fading. Even with being so close to Estinien, it’s clear the elezen didn’t hear it, he simply trying to press a bit closer even as the miqo’te laid still half in her bed, clenching her eyes closed as Estinien strokes his fingers gently over her cheek and through her hair. Eos continues to flicker back and forth for a few more moments, seeming utterly unconvinced that the two women are actually fine, finally restlessly settling at Kohanya’s shoulder.

Atara’s response is a low, shaking growl, she dropping her sword a moment later and covering her face with her hands, the light in the tent dimming further as she curls to her knees where she sits on the floor by her bed. A string of Steppe words flow from the au ra, Kohanya having enough knowledge of the language to pick up on a few of the words, but most of it is muffled against the knight’s knees. Reaching up, Kohanya gently pats Eos’ head in a gentle touch, soothing the fae to settle and finally drift much more calmly to Atara, checking on the state of the bandaged wound on the au ra. Kohanya cautiously opens her eyes in the dim light, knowing Estinien can see the unshed tears within as she speaks, barely above a ragged whisper. "A damnably detailed one, but still, a nightmare. What are they telling you?"

Estinien coaxes Kohanya off the bed and into his enveloping hold, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her head to his chest, the dragoon pressing away his own unsettled state at how strongly affected his lover and her best friend were from the dream. Atara grunts faintly at the question, her voice ragged and she seeming quite off focus yet. "T-they were trying to wake me. And I haven't...I...I was ignoring them? I don't..why would...I wasn’t ignoring them, I don’t...I didn’t hear them? I don’t know..." She trails off into a low growl of discomfort. 

Lifting her head to nose to Estinien’s shoulder, Kohanya presses her nose down into the man's hair for a long moment, eyes shadowed when she looks up. "Probably because, again, you were drugged. Subtly, or I would have noticed it long before now." Atara finally dosen’t make a sound of disbelief at the idea of having been somehow drugged as she finally becomes aware of the unusual state of things for her. The slight sound in reply comes from Estinien at the note the dark knight was drugged, he looking over towards the woman with an otherwise relatively blank expression. “We’ll see what Cid makes of that chip I found..” She exhales a soft breath, shielding herself against Estinien’s larger form. “But it was a dream. Just because you can imagine something in exquisite detail doesn't make it true."

Silence falls over the trio as Estinien caresses his hand along Kohanya’s shoulders, trying to soothe the miqo’te in his arms as she presses her cheek to his shoulder. Atara’s breathing steadies and calms, the woman shifting and shuffling closer to the other two until she’s at their side, her tail carefully coiling around Kohanya’s waist but otherwise giving space. Slight, delicate shivers still shake the healer’s shoulders from time to time, she lowering a hand to trail her fingertips lightly along the scaled appendage wrapped about her. She's no louder than before as she speaks. "I don't know why the Echo thought I needed to see that, but I know you didn't choose to show it either." Several points cause a catch in her voice, and when done, the miqo burrows her cheek in a bit more firmly, grip finding a way to tighten around the larger form of the dragoon.

Atara mutters faintly, voice muffled against her knees. “I didn’t know we could do that.” She keeps her arms curled about her knees, but after a moment and with a slight surprise to Estinien, she moves to lean her back against his shoulder, seeking the closeness but making sure his full focus is on the other woman. He stiffens slightly and holds his breath, then after a heartbeat or two exhales and noses down into Kohanya’s hair, murmuring wordlessly into her ear to help fill her senses with him. 

“Always something new to learn about the Echo.” Kohanya agrees flatly, the pair coming to the same assumption that Estinien had about the source of the dream. She gives Atara’s tail a few more gentle strokes before reaching that hand to hold to the dragoon with the other, pressed close. After a bit, she licks her lips minutely, "... Bloody hells, Atara, please tell me you make that man larger in your nightmares than he is in reality."

It’s quiet from beyond the dragoon’s shoulder for a few moments, then with a sigh Atara replies, a low mumble mostly into her knees again. “I’m not sure of anything right now.” Estinien calms as he gets used to his new position between the two women, still keeping silent and otherwise a staple of steadiness in a bit of a role reversal. Kohanya smirks faintly against his shoulder at the answer. 

"Was there ever much to be sure of?" She's quiet a second, then shifts slightly, feeling the phantom memories of pain and sometimes having to try and adapt for wounds not actually there. "I'm forewarned, Ta. I won't go anywhere alone if you don't."

Atara lets loose a shaky breath and slight sob at the miqo’s words, her tail twitching a bit before she mumbles an agreement. "O-okay. And.. I'll assume you mean with a living person cause I'm never actually alone." She attempts a mild bit of humor, even as she quietly cries, a bit of her younger age showing in the sense of her being overwhelmed.

Determined to keep herself calm lest the younger Warrior crumple further, Kohayna grumbles against Estinien’s neck. “Of fucking course I mean with a living person.” She feels Estinien’s lips curl into a slight smile against her forehead, both at the au ra’s bad humor and the reply, Atara making a sound that seems a half snort of laughter, the emotion echoed in the slight up and down motion of her tail where it’s still about Kohanya’s waist. Gradually growing more soothed and comforted with time, weariness is creeping back into her, no matter how much she wants it not to. "Next time... your spirits better wake you faster."

Atara’s smirk is audible in her voice as she speaks, the grip of her tail loosening a bit as she shifts to simply curl on her side on the floor for the moment with her back to Estinien’s. “The Elder says they’ll do their best.” 

Kohanya makes a very quiet, ragged sound that still conveys a sort of agreement or acknowledgement. She's too drained to do much else, even her tail and ears starting to go limp as she slides back into sleep. Hopefully far more restful sleep, this time.

**Author's Note:**

> This was 100% inspired by the joyful deviants who populate Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Book-Club on Discord. https://discord.gg/5TdhTCV Come join us!


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